Why?
by magentacr
Summary: Started out as a cute and fluffy Sherlolly oneshot, but grew a mind of its own that wasn't so cute and fluffy. Sherlock fights fire with fire when Moriarty hurts Molly, but who will be the one who gets burned?
1. Unexpected

_AN: I do not own anything you recognize, etc._

* * *

"Why do you do that?" Molly asked, hovering behind Sherlock as he sat at his favourite microscope, getting a better look at the sample she had just got him.

"If I'm right, and I usually am, these samples should prove that Mr Millar's death was no - " Sherlock started to explain, without looking up from what he was doing.

"No," She cut off his explanation of what he was doing, realising that in the several minutes she'd been plucking up the courage to ask, the question was now out of context, and would require a little explaining. "I don't mean that, I mean… I mean when you came in, you complimented my outfit, and …my eyes. Why?"

"I was just making conversation, small talk, you know-" He answered a little uncertainly, his face pulling back from the microscope a couple of inches, but still not looking at her.

"No, you were buttering me up to get me to let you have those samples." Molly corrected "I know when you're manipulating me, Sherlock, I've always known. At first I didn't mind, because… well, I was just happy you noticed me, and y'know, the compliments were nice… and better than the insults. But then when you asked me to help you fake your death, you just asked me, and I still helped you, and I thought we had an understanding. But you've been doing it again recently, and I don't understand why. You know you can just ask me, if you need anything, don't you Sherlock?"

Her question was met by silence. Sherlock's face still hovered a few inches from the microscope, not observing his data. Molly leaned around slightly to see if he had gone into his mind palace- the glaze and micro-movements of his eyes that would give him away - but as she leaned round he sharply turned his head away, not allowing her to see his eyes, though the movement made it clear he wasn't in his mind palace. What didn't he want her to see?

A second later Sherlock jumped to his feet, pulling his coat on, but still keeping his back to her as he started speaking rapidly.

"I think I've seen everything I need to see here, Mr Millar's death was definitely foul play, I'll swing by the yard and let Lestrade know my results, maybe have him send someone down to verify it, probably best to leave those samples out if you wouldn't mind – "

"Sherlock." Molly's voice bought his speech and movements to a halt, his hand gripping the door handle a little too tight in his desperation to flee rather than have this conversation. But he knew she wasn't going to leave it alone if he didn't give her some kind of answer, and in his line of work avoiding the morgue wasn't an option.

"Of course I know, Molly. As I told you before, I've always trusted you, I always knew I could rely on your help."

"Then why-?"

Her question fell dead as the door swung shut behind the consulting detective. Molly let him go with a sigh, returning to her work and leaving the samples out as promised.

Later that evening, Molly hesitated on the front step of 221b, having headed straight there as soon as her shift at Bart's finished. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it, but Molly couldn't stop herself thinking about it, and needed answers. If anything, his avoidance just made her more curious. Her mind made up, she let herself in with the spare key Sherlock had given her after his return, and padded softly up the stairs. The door to their living room was open as usual, and she could see him, laying on the couch in his dressing gown, his eyes closed, but not sleeping. She was sure by the tense set of his jaw that he knew she wss there, but gave a soft knock on the doorframe anyway to announce her presence.

"You just couldn't leave it alone could you." He murmured, still not wanting to open his eyes to face her.

"I need to know, Sherlock, I… I think I deserve to know." She replied just as softly, stepping lightly further into the room, until she stood the opposite side of the coffee table, facing him on the sofa.

Sherlock sighed loudly, swinging himself round to sit upright facing her, leaning forward with his feet planted on the floor and his head buried in his hands for a second, before he looked up, directly into her eyes, letting her see his inner turmoil written all over his face. It was subtle - not just anyone would be able see it - but she always could.

"Would you be satisfied if I promised not to do it again?

Molly bit her lip as she thought about it, dropping her a gaze for a few seconds. When she knew what she wanted to say, she met his gaze again, finding it just as sharp and desperate as before.

"I don't know if I want that. It all depends on why you do it. Please Sherlock, you said you trust me. So tell me."

Sherlock sighed again, standing abruptly and going over to stand in front of the window, with his back to her.

"It's not just you I don't want to admit it to Molly… I've been lying to myself about it for years too. Sometimes I can almost believe it. But to explain it to you - to say it out loud… that changes everything. There's no going back from that." He admitted shamefully to the streets below. He waited a second, giving her a chance to reconsider, but of course when Molly set her mind on something, there was no reconsidering. She stayed where she was, waiting to hear the rest of it and so he turned and gave it to her.

"So be it. I wasn't using flirting as an excuse to get something from you, Molly Hooper. I was using getting something from you as an excuse to flirt with you."

Whatever it was Molly was expecting to hear, it wasn't that. Her eyebrows pulled together, trying to make sense of Sherlock's twisted logic. "I don't understand. Why would you need an excuse to flirt with me."

"Because doing so would be giving way to sentiment. Sentiment is a distraction and a weakness that someone in position cannot afford. Look how much trouble my friendship with John has gotten me into. To give into _romantic_ feelings, for someone like you could be disastrous. For both of us." Even as he said it he stepped forward, a hand reaching out hesitantly to touch her arm, running his hand down it in a warm caress in spite of his words. "When I told you that your hair suited you a certain way, or that your lipstick looked nice it was because I wanted to, but the only way I could justify it to myself was as a means to an end, if I was using it to flatter you into doing something for me. Then I threw in a few cutting remarks to push you away, for extra measure. Do you see? I did it to protect you, and now here you are, looking for trouble!" His soft admission gave way to frustration, and he pulled away from her again, going back to the windows, pacing in front of them. Molly was in shock as she took it all in, tears springing to her eyes in delight and in sympathy as she understood his struggle, but was unable to hide her own delight.

"Everything you've put me through… all the insults, the manipulation… it was all because you_ love _me." She concluded.

"To protect you." Sherlock said as both agreement and reflex rejection of the word **'Love'** "And it's worked so far, it certainly kept you below Moriarty's radar the first time. But this time it's different… it's impossible to deny that you helped me fake my death, you'll need protecting more than ever from the storm that is to come."

Molly nodded sombrely, very aware of the danger she was in. It had plagued her since she saw it on the television in the morgue, the hint of Moriarty's return. "And you think keeping me at arm's length is the best way to do that?" She said, a few more tears escaping at the idea that this all meant nothing.

"It was one option, along with extra surveillance and security placed on you by Mycroft, that if they're doing their jobs correctly you probably haven't noticed." Sherlock said dismissively. "I thought it was best to stick to what I know, but it won't work now, keeping you at arm's length, as I already said, this changes things."

"So what's the other option?" Molly asked, struggling to keep the hope from bubbling up through her voice.

He stopped and looked back at her, looking her up and down as though in thought, before walking straight over to her and pulling her against his chest in a fierce hug.

"Not letting you out of my sight."


	2. Unorthodox

_AN: Thanks for all the support and favourites and follows I got for my last chapter, I never expected so much, and since several of you asked so nicely, here a little sequel chapter. _

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"Wait there." Sherlock told her when he finally let her go from his tight embrace. Molly wasn't sure how many minutes had passed while she was enveloped in his arms, but didn't much care, as it was the happiest however-many-minutes of her life. She waited patiently while he rushed away to his room, rummaged around for something, and then came rushing back, a small object hidden in his hands. He waited until he was face to face with her once again to reveal it; a plain black ring box, which he opened proudly to present the ring inside; elaborate gold scrollwork surrounding a glistening solitaire diamond. The metal was slightly dull, marked by age, yet well cared for and clearly polished regularly. Molly stared at it, then up at Sherlock, speechless.

"What do you think?" He prompted, perfectly calmly, as if asking her opinion on a meal.

"It's an engagement ring!" Was all Molly could say, her mind reeling from the unexpectedness of the gesture. On the one hand it was a dream come true, on the other she thought it had to be a dream, or some kind of twisted joke.

"Yes, it was my mothers. Doesn't fit her anymore so she passed it down to me in case I ever met a woman deserving of it. By rights it probably should have gone to Mycroft, but I think she's long since given up home of him ever settling down. Anyway, I think it would suit you." Sherlock rattled off, either oblivious to or ignoring her confusion. "Unless of course you'd prefer something more modern, in which case I still have the one I used to propose to Janine here somewhere."

"No! This is…" She reacted instinctively negatively to the idea of a ring he had offered someone else. Only Sherlock would think that was okay. "This is fine but…but why? Why are you giving me an engagement ring, Sherlock?" She finally managed to spit the question out, wide eyes focused on his face, hopeful but ready for disappointment.

"Because that's what people do isn't it? When they want to get married. I'm sorry, I probably should have said something more along the lines of 'will you marry me?' when I showed you the ring, or got down on one knee or something. I still can if you like..?" he stepped back slightly, in preparation go down, but Molly stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No no, you don't have to." She quickly said, a nervous giggle escaping her, which became less nervous and more genuinely happy as Sherlock smiled back with a deep chuckle. Joy radiated inside her at the idea that Sherlock was serious about marrying her, but still she couldn't keep the logical part of her brain from making its objections heard. "But Sherlock, seriously. I mean, you've only just admitted to feeling anything for me, we're not even dating or anything, we can't just skip right to being engaged."

"I don't see why not. Isn't the point of courtship - "

Molly couldn't help a small snort escaping her. "Sherlock, nobody says 'courtship' anymore, they say 'dating'."

Sherlock let out a huge sigh and rolled his eyes. "Either way, the point _is_ to get to know another person and figure out if they're a suitable partner for marriage. We already know all that's necessary to know about one another, and I already came to the conclusion long ago that if I were to ever settle down, that you would be my first choice. We have similar interests, you have the strength to withstand my… less desirable behaviors and to tell me no on occasion. And your loyalty and… love for me seem boundless. The only question that remains is if you're willing to overlook my unsuitability enough to actually marry me."

Molly felt her smile brighten until her cheeks hurt throughout his explanation. It probably wasn't what most people would consider romantic, but to her it was perfect.

"Well when you put it like that." She quipped, slightly more breathlessly than she intended, and held out her shaking hand for him to put the ring onto. He smirked in response as he took the ring out of the box, steadied her hand in one of his own and slid the ring onto it. For a second they both stared at it, sitting so perfectly against her pale skin, until Molly could no longer contain herself, and flung her arms around Sherlock once again.

"We could do it tonight you know." Sherlock murmured after a few minutes. "Get married."

"What?!" Molly asked, pulling back again out of shock and gaping at him.

"I know you've probably always imagined a big white wedding with all the traditions and such, but that's not the only option." Sherlock said with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. "All we'd need is the rings, paperwork, an ordained minister and two witnesses. There's a man who runs a jewelry store, owes me a favour for helping work the kinks out of his security system, he'd be more than happy to provide the rings. Mycroft can handle the paperwork and has been known to officiate a marriage or two to help smooth alliances with one nation or another. And I'm sure John and Mary would be happy to come along as witnesses"

Molly still stared at him, her mouth opening and closing, unsure what answer she wanted to give. He was right, when she was younger she'd always imagined a big fancy white wedding, but as he spoke images of poufy dresses and layered cakes gave way to a clandestine ceremony in the middle of the night, just them, two rings and three close friends. It was so much more… Sherlock. And if she was honest, more her. She was always so awkward in social situations, and wasn't much one for standing in the spotlight. It seemed Sherlock knew her better than she knew herself, and with that thought, it was easy to make her decision.

"Let's do it."


	3. Uncooperative

_AN: Okay, this story is officially a run-away train, no stopping it once it gets in motion, no matter how hard I try. No idea how many chapters it'll end up as, but this probably won't be the last. Thanks to Di The Creator for pushing me into writing this one ;)_

* * *

"Well she's finally asleep." Mary sighed coming back into the living room, giving a weary sigh to her husband on the sofa.

"Mm, but for how long?" He grimaced, putting his arm around her as she dropped down beside him.

"Probably a couple of hours… I wonder what we could do in that time?" She replied with a cheeky grin, turning her face to him and leaning in. John gave a throaty chuckle and leaned in the rest of the way to kiss her, pulling her deeper into his arms.

They broke apart at the sound of both their text tones chiming at once. John sighed, knowing exactly who it would be, as they both dug their phones out of their pockets and held them side by side to read. Sure enough, the message was identical.

_The Diogenes Club, come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway. – SH_

John sighed again, heaving himself up off the sofa.

"You stay here, I'll deal with this, whatever it is."

"What? No!" Mary jumped to her feet too, staring him down "He sent the text to both of us, he _needs_ both of us. And I'm not pregnant anymore, so you have no excuse to keep side-lining me to protect me- "

"No, no, I'm not… I know you can look after yourself Mary, but someone has to stay behind to keep an eye on Charlotte. I mean, where are we going to find a babysitter at this short notice? I know Mrs Hudson said we could drop her off any time, but she's probably had her evening soother by now and-" He was cut off by another chime from both of their phones.

_Bring the infant if you have to, it won't be dangerous. – SH_

"Well that settles it." Mary sad with a triumphant grin "You get the car started, I'll see if I can get her into the carry cot without waking her."

"Sherlock and I have very different definitions of the word dangerous, you know!" John called after her as she skipped away, but it was no use. With a final eye roll at his phone, he grabbed his coat and went out to wait in the car for the girls.

* * *

All the lights save one were off as they pulled up to the Diogenes club. 'Anthea' was waiting for them by the door, and showed them through to the lit room. Mycroft was behind a large desk facing them, filling out a form of some kind, and on a plush sofa facing away from them were Sherlock and Molly, sitting unusually close. John was sure Sherlock would have heard their approach, but he didn't look round. Instead Mycroft looked up from his paperwork.

"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Watson. Now your witnesses are here, Sherlock, let's get this over with."  
"Witnesses? What are we witnessing?" John asked in confusion.  
Molly spun round on the sofa to face them, her smile brighter than John had ever seen it before.  
"We're getting married!" She said enthusiastically, climbing to her feet and pulling Sherlock up with her, a sparkling engagement ring on the hand that held his to attest to her words.  
Mary's jaw dropped, while John's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Mary was first to regain her senses, rushing over to Molly with a big smile to offer her congratulations and putting Charlottes cot down by the sofa so she could take a closer look at the ring. John struggled to rearrange his features into a still rather fake looking smile, his eyes sharpening on Sherlock.  
"Sherlock, a word please?" He gestured to the hall with his head.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes but followed him anyway, out into the darkened hall, but close enough that their faces were illuminated by the light spilling out of the room. John's face was clearly unimpressed, while Sherlock maintained a bored look.  
"Okay, what's going on?" John demanded.  
"As Molly just announced, we're getting married. Legally we needed to have two witnesses so -"  
"No, I got that bit. But why? You've never shown any interest in pursuing a proper romantic relationship, certainly not with _Molly_, therefore I can only assume you have some ulterior motive. What is it, a case? An experiment?"  
"No, John, this time there is no ulterior motive." Sherlock explained in his most condescending tone. "Although it will help me keep an eye on her so Moriarty can't try to get revenge for helping me fake my death, but that's not my sole reason for marrying her."  
John considered this for a second, his eyes searching the detective, but finding nothing in his perfect poker face.  
"Okay then, what is your motive? _Why_ are you marrying Molly?"  
Sherlock's brows pulled together, trying to decipher John's meaning.  
"Because she's moderately intelligent, she understands the importance of my work, she - "  
"Hmm, not bad, but that's not what I'm asking. It's three simple words, Sherlock, but if I don't hear you say them - and **mean** them – then I am not signing anything to help you make this legal."  
Sherlock knew what he was asking. He wanted to hear Sherlock say the '**L**' word. He straightened his back and met John's eye steadily.  
"No."  
John shook his head, disappointment written all over his face. "_Sherlock..."_  
"I haven't even said those words to her yet. She should be the first to hear them, and I am not ready for that yet. But she knows it's true, and that's good enough for her. WHY can't it be good enough for you?" The volume rose through the explanation and ended in a shout, causing John's eyebrows to rise and a small smile to creep onto his face.  
"Actually, that'll about do it." He conceded. "Come on, let's go get you hitched." He started to walk back into the room, expecting Sherlock to follow, but stopped when he noticed him hanging back in the shadows, taking a few big breaths while he could.  
"Getting cold feet?" John gently teased.  
"Absolutely not." Sherlock asserted, marching past John into the room, where the girls had been having a similar conversation.

* * *

"Wow, I can't believe it. You and Sherlock getting married! I didn't even realise you were dating. What, were you keeping it secret?" Mary asked.

Molly, bit her lip, blushing slightly. "Uh, no actually, we never really… he didn't see the point in dating, since we've already been friends so long. He only just told me today that he was even interested in me and … here we are."

"Wow that was… quick." Mary replied, looking slightly alarmed. "Listen, not wanting to sound like I'm not happy for you, because I am, and I've seen the way you look at each other, and the way he talks about you, and believe me it's been a long time coming… but don't you think you're taking things a bit fast? I mean married life is…" She glanced towards the door to make sure her husband wasn't on his way back in "…it's hard work, and it's going to be twice as difficult with someone like Sherlock. Are you sure you don't want to take some more time to think about this?"

Molly shook her head, her smile not even slightly dampened by Mary's doubts. "I have thought about it. I've been thinking about it a long time. I've known Sherlock a long time, I know what he's like. There will be days where he'll make me want to scream, and days where he'll make me cry, and days where he'll give me a heart attack by coming home dripping with blood. But I wouldn't miss any of it, because he's worth it." She paused at the sound of him shouting at John just outside the room, the side of her mouth pulling up in an affectionate smile as she looked back at the door. "And I don't think there's many other women out there who can understand and tolerate him like I do, and I know there's no other man out there who can make me feel alive as he does. I don't need any more time to think about it."

"Well then I'm _very_ happy for you." Mary grinned, now even more certain that Sherlock would never find anyone more perfect. "And if John doesn't bring him back in here soon so you two can make this official I'm going to go out there and get them myself!"

"No need, Mary." Sherlock's voice rang out behind them as he strode back into the room, quickly taking his place beside Molly.

"Now you're all satisfied this is a real wedding, can we get this over with please?" Mycroft drawled, setting his pen down.

"Aww, Mycroft is getting all emotional, his little brother is getting married!" Mary teased, earning Mycroft's most unamused glare, as he got to his feet.

"We are gathered here today…"


	4. Unnerving

_AN: Hey guys, thanks for all the support this story is receiving, I couldn't do it without you guys motivating me. Not used to writing a story on the fly like this, so sorry it's a bit longer between updates than I usually do. Anyway, onto the story._

* * *

Their honeymoon consisted of a two day visit to Calais. Any longer and Sherlock would have been itching to get back to a case, but as it was, Sherlock was more relaxed than Molly had ever seen him. That was, until they returned to London. The closer they got to Baker Street the tenser he became, his hand gripping hers a little tighter than necessary, as his eyes rapidly scanned the streets outside. When they reached the flat he dashed up the stairs ahead of her, and she could hear him banging around through every room above as she slowly climbed with their bags. When she reached the top he re-entered the stairway, about to rush up to John's old room, but she caught his wrist to stop him.

"Sherlock?"

"Sorry, just uh… tidying. Didn't get much of a chance before, couldn't have you coming home to a dump though. And of course we need to make room for your things…" He babbled, his smile wide but not reaching his eyes, which still flicked up to John's room, before down to the bags in her hands. "Here, let me take those, I'll just put them up here for now-"

He snatched the bags out of her hands and started up the stairs with them, until Molly called him back with a serious tone.

"Sherlock!"

He looked back and then his eyes widened, dropping the bags on the step in front of him then rushing back down to her.

"Sorry, I forgot…" He swooped her up into his arms before she could protest, taking two long strides into the living room and putting her down again. "Welcome to your new home, Mrs Holmes." He announced warmly, giving her a quick, passionate kiss before turning away again. "Now if you'll excuse me just a moment…" And with that he hurried back out the room and up the staircases, forgetting the bags. Molly let him go with a sigh, waiting for his return to question him on it.

"No-one hiding in any of the bedrooms?" She asked pointedly as he thudded down the stairs and back into the living room.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to deny it, but then thought better of it. "Apparently not." He replied truthfully, going to the window and easing the net curtains aside to peer cautiously out. Molly walked up behind him, carefully wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head on his back.

"What's gotten into you Sherlock? You were fine while we were away, now you're more wired than ever."

Sherlock let the net curtains drop closed with a sigh, enjoying the embrace a second before pulling out of it to turn around and face her, his face serious but trying to be gentle.

"By now Moriarty is probably aware of our marriage. No doubt he's already plotting the best way to turn it against me; to hurt me through you. What was I thinking?" he muttered to himself, looking away from her as the hurt flashed over her face.

"You… you're regretting marrying me already?" She asked in shock, her eyes tearing up as she took a step back away from him, wanting to run away.

Sherlock's eyes whipped back to her at the movement, and he stepped into the gap, pulling her back to him.

"Not like that. Never like that. But your safety is my primary concern, and I… I fear this may have only made things worse rather than better."

"If anyone can keep me safe it's you." She murmured against his chest.

"Even against _him_?" he questioned "Molly, you know how close he came last time to beating me. Even without the help of his network-"

"Which **you** destroyed. _Alone._"

"He's still a very dangerous man." Sherlock finished.

Molly hesitated, feeling the weight of his words, but refusing to let them crush her.

"If he really is back." She muttered.

Sherlock pulled back in surprise, his eyebrows pulling together.

"You don't believe he's back?!"

Molly shrugged, avoiding his eyes awkwardly.

"I did at first, y'know when I saw him on the TV. But… Sherlock you said he put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, there is no surviving that. Even if he fired a blank it would still have done too much damage, I've seen cases of it myself. I just don't see how he could have faked it, especially not in front of you, you'd have noticed anything off."

Sherlock closed his eyes at this, his expression screwed up in regret.

"I did." He said in anguish.

Molly's mouth fell open, staring again in shock.

"You did?"

"Not at the time obviously." Sherlock's eyes opened and he snapped back into his usually detached demeanour as he explained it. "I was too distracted, too busy trying to figure out my next move -which plan to put into action to save myself and the others- to see what was in front of me. But my mind palace stored it in perfect detail: every sound, every sight, every smell. It was only when he came back that I went back and examined those details and realised what was missing."

"What?" Molly whispered, goosebumps rising on her arms in fear of the threat that now felt very real.

"The smell of gunpowder. Subtle enough that it was easy to miss, but very telling in its absence. You're right that a blank would kill him, and of course I'd recognise a fake gun… but a real gun with modified contents?" He couldn't help but smile in admiration at the simple trick "Clever, very clever. Probably some kind of Hydrogen compound – makes a lot of noise when ignited, but not too explosive. Probably would have singed a bit, but not deadly. The blood I'm sure was his own, but likely drawn before and stored. Who did his autopsy?"

"Uh I.. I don't remember, I was busy with you." Molly explained "But… I suppose it would have been Myers or Daniels."

"Hmm… I suppose I'll have to get a good look at both of them to deduce who." Sherlock mused.

"Well it wouldn't be too hard to call you in one day when Daniels is in, but Myers doesn't work at Barts anymore he-"

"Got a better job offer at another hospital not long after I left?" Sherlock supplied for her.

"Yeah!" Molly agreed, surprised she hadn't thought it more suspicious at the time.

"He's dead." Sherlock callously announced. "Of course Moriarty couldn't let him live knowing that he was still alive, one doesn't become a consulting criminal by leaving loose ends like that."

Molly gasped in shock, feeling behind her for Sherlock's armchair and sinking down into it shakily. That explained why he hadn't replied to her text asking how the new job was going. The fact she'd worked so close with one of Moriarty's people made the danger so much realer and closer to home, it was hard to deal with. Sherlock noticed her distress and walked round to crouch in front of her, eyes serious as they fixed on hers.

"Do you regret marrying me yet?" The question held no infection, his face perfectly detached and calm. And yet Molly could see straight through the mask, to the vulnerability lurking there.

"Never" She whispered, leaning forward to hold him tightly "I don't think I've ever needed you more."


	5. Unsuspecting

_AN: Not sure how long I can keep going with these 'un' chapter titles. We'll see. Got a nice long chapter for you now, enjoy ;)_

* * *

Days passed without incident, but Sherlock was still uneasy. Whenever Molly was at work he was running tests in the labs at Barts, or solving cases that came into the morgue and wouldn't require him leaving it. Whenever a case did come up that he couldn't refuse, it was only logical that Molly and Mary should wait in each other's company for their men to return, and Sherlock felt better knowing there was an ex-assassin watching her back.

Today there was no case though. Molly was doing the dishes, Sherlock in his armchair reading one of Molly's medical journals, when Mrs Hudson came up the stairs.

"Woo hoo." She called, peeking her head in the door to the kitchen and seeing Molly by the sink. "There you are Dear, someone just dropped this off for you. Another congratulations for the new Mrs Holmes." She beamed, excited as she was at the wedding, after the initial disappointment of not having been there herself.

"Thanks Mrs Hudson." Molly said, giving her hands a quick wipe on a towel before taking the card from her. Mrs Hudson left again as Molly waved the card at Sherlock, "Look Sherlock, another card! Probably someone at work, word certainly has got around." She blushed slightly, embarrassed by the attention but guiltily enjoying it.

"How wonderful." Sherlock replied insincerely, not even looking up from his paper. Molly might be enjoying the attention, but he certainly wasn't. Just earlier that day he'd spotted a picture of them leaving the flat together on the front of a gossip magazine. By now everyone who ever hated him knew his soft spot, and it didn't help ease his tension at all.

Suddenly his brooding was interrupted by a frightened gasp from Molly, the opened card dropping out of her hands. "What, what is it?" He asked, quickly getting to his feet to examine the card himself.

"It's … it's from him. It's Jim." She stuttered, badly shaken. Sherlock hesitated on his way to the card, trying to figure out if and how he should be comforting his terrified wife, and then he froze completely, observing her properly.

"Molly, what's on your hands?" he asked sharply.

Molly looked down at her shaking hands, the thin layer of pale powder clinging to her fingertips, some dusting her clothing.

"I.. I don't know. That wasn't there before. I.. it must have come from the card."

"Wash it off, Molly, wash it off now!" He instructed urgently, looking down at the card and indeed seeing a white powder coating the inside of it, and some particles floating in the air above it, illuminated by a beam of light from the window. He quickly put his sleeve over his mouth to prevent himself breathing it in as he rushed to the kitchen, throwing open cupboards until her found a bucket, which he placed upside down over the card to contain it, before rushing to open the windows. He looked back to Molly standing in front of the sink, and his worst fears were confirmed. The tap was still running, but she was no longer washing her hands. Rather, she was gripping the edges of the sink in a white knuckled grip, swaying slightly, her breathing quick and uneven.

"Molly!" He rushed back to her, giving his own hands a quick rinse under the water before pressing his fingers lightly to the side of her throat. Her pulse was far too rapid. "Tell me what's happening."

"I feel dizzy and… weak. My head hurts." Molly listed. Her eyes had been closed, but she opened them and lifted them to Sherlock's face. "It's poison, isn't it?"

"Looks that way. Keep washing." Sherlock told her, keeping calm for her sake as her wrapped a supporting arm around her, his other hand pulling out his phone.

"Cyanide." Molly told him on a ragged breath, moving slowly to take her weight off her hands and continue washing them.

Sherlock swallowed and nodded, having arrived at the same conclusion. He selected his brothers number and pressed call.

"Mycroft, I need a hazmat team to Baker Street, now!"

"What have you done this time, little brother?" Mycroft sighed, imagining another of Sherlock's experiments gone wrong. It seemed he would never be done cleaning up after him.

"Not me. Moriarty. He sent Molly a card with a poisonous powder inside, probably sodium cyanide. Some of it has gotten airborne." Sherlock explained.

"Are either of you suffering from the exposure?" Mycroft asked, more seriously, one hand flying over the keyboard in front of him to order a dispatch.

"Molly is, I'd say she's suffering from moderate exposure, she had enough contact to absorb some, and probably some inhalation too."

"Then I'll have an ambulance sent along with the hazmat team. I suggest you be ready when they arrive. You know the procedure, you've done it more than enough times. I hope you're not wearing anything you're overly attached to. If that's all-"

"Wait, there's one more thing." Sherlock stopped him. He glanced back at Molly, who was once again leaning on the sink rather than washing her hands, then lowered his voice "I didn't get to see what the card said. I would appreciate it if some pictures were taken before it gets incinerated."

"Very well, I'll make sure the message is passed on. Love to the wife and all that, hope she feels better soon etc." Mycroft drawled to hide his concern, before hanging up the phone.

Sherlock tossed his phone on the side, turning his full attention back to Molly just in time as she started vomiting in the sink. Sherlock pulled her hair back out of the way and continued to hold her, turning his face away so she couldn't see the dark look on his face.

"That's good Molly, get it out your system." He soothed "Help is on its way."

Molly nodded weakly, panting as the nausea passed, and scooping some water in her hand from the tap to wash out the taste. Sherlock caught her wrist before she could get it to her mouth though, grabbing a glass off the draining board and filling it for her instead.

"Sorry didn't think...thanks" Molly muttered weakly, accepting the glass.

"Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?" Sherlock asked softly when she set the glass down, noting the unsteadiness of her hand. "I think a shower would be best, before the ambulance arrives."

"Maybe." Molly agreed, turning to face Sherlock, gripping his arms for stability. Their eyes met and she saw the worry in his eyes. The answering sympathy in her own was too much for him to bear, so he rapidly dropped her gaze, busying himself with removing both their clothing, throwing it in a sloppy heap on the bucket for the hazmat team to dispose of, before scooping her up and carrying her to the bathroom. He settled her on the toilet seat as he turned the shower on, and waited for the water to warm up.

"I love you, you know." Molly smiled watching him, despite how ill she felt, there was a warm glow in her heart from seeing how much Sherlock cared for her.

"I… I need to concentrate on getting you better right now, Molly. We can do the difficult emotional stuff later." Sherlock replied, his voice thick despite his attempt to lock out the emotions. He still hadn't said those words to her yet, but he couldn't afford to get side-tracked by sentiment now. Maybe later, when he knew she'd be okay, then he might be able to say it.

Molly understood anyway, with a secret smile to herself that even if he didn't say it out loud, his actions shouted it loud and clear.

"Shower is ready, come on." Sherlock held out his hand to Molly, helping her up and into the shower. He stepped in with her, indulging in holding her tight under the spray for a few seconds, under the pretext of steadying her, before grabbing the soap and giving them both a thorough wash down. Molly let him take care of her, her eyes closing again against the dizziness and head pain, not wanting to get sick again now they were cleaning up. She wasn't sure she'd have a choice though, as she was feeling her body slipping out of her control. When the first convulsion struck they both froze, hoping it was just a false alarm, until it happened again, and again. Molly cried out in pain and misery, slumping into Sherlock's arms, relying on him entirely to hold her up.

"Molly, Molly stay with me. Hold on, just hold on." Sherlock gripped her as tight as he could trying to hold her up with one arm, while the other switched the shower off and yanked the curtain back. He hefted her into his arms again, lifting her out of the tub and carrying her straight through to their bedroom, laying her down carefully and going back for a towel.

"Sherlock.." Molly moaned as he left her. The nausea was back in full intensity, and she rolled to the edge of the bed, grabbing the bin just in time before she threw up again. Sherlock was by her side again in a second, giving her hand a squeeze in comfort, before drying her off with the towel. His actions were clinically detached, but all the while he muttered under his breath "Don't worry, help will be here soon. Any minute now, they'll be here, we'll get you help." And Molly knew it was as much for his comfort as hers.

He had just thrown on some clothes and helped Molly into a dressing gown. When the doorbell went. Sherlock almost cried out in relief, squeezing Molly's hand tightly as he listened to the faint sounds of Mrs Hudson answering the door. Seconds later there were feet coming up the stairs, followed by Mrs Hudson's approaching voice.

"Sherlock? Hazmat is here, whatever have you been doing now?"

"Mrs Hudson, do not enter the flat!" Sherlock shouted back, getting to his feet.

"Don't leave me." Molly whimpered, as another violent convulsion shook her.

"I won't, I promise, I'm right here." Sherlock reassured her, backing away only as far as the door, standing in the doorframe where he could keep an eye on Molly and see what was going on. The leader of the hazmat team approached him, and he filled them in on what had happened. When he heard more feet on the stairs he trailed off, his gaze going past the man he was talking to, to the door, where the paramedics had finally arrived with the stretcher.

"You need pictures of what, sir?" The Hazmat man asked again.

"The uh.. the card. That's all" Sherlock waved the man off. "In here, she's in here." He called to the paramedics, waiting as they manoeuvred the stretcher around the small flat. He rushed back to Molly's side, indulging in a quick kiss on her cheek before stepping back and allowing the paramedics to go to work, loading her onto the stretcher, and answering their questions in detail. He took his eyes off her for only a few seconds, to send one quick text.

_John, it has begun. Meet me at Barts. - SH_


	6. Unethical

_AN: Okay, not too sure about this chapter, but here we go._

* * *

It didn't take John long to find Sherlock at Barts, he just followed the sound of a commotion and sure enough, there was Sherlock.

"What's going on?" He asked as calmly as he could, with a strained smile as he approached Sherlock and the nurses he was arguing with.

"Molly has been poisoned, and these incompetent morons won't let me go see her!" Sherlock raged.

"Of course you can go see her Mr. Holmes, we just need to do a quick blood test first to be sure you've not contracted the poison too." One of the nurses replied.

"I've already told you, I'm _fine!_" Sherlock insisted "Tell them, John!"

"Right, umm… can I just have a quick word?" John addressed the main triage nurse, nodding her to follow him a short distance away.

When they returned Sherlock's eyes widened in shock and betrayal, seeing John carrying the needle. Then he rolled his eyes.

"This is completely unnecessary, my objections have nothing to do with who is taking the blood, just that it's a huge waste of time and – _John!"_

John had clapped a firm hand down on Sherlock's shoulder with surprising pressure, at the same time sweeping his feet out from under him, forcing him into the seat behind him, before swiftly plunging the needle straight into an easily visible vein in the crook of his arm, grateful for his already rolled up sleeves. As soon as the needle was in Sherlock knew better than to struggle, but fumed as John drew the blood. "I could sue you for malpractice you know."

"You won't" John replied calmly "And even if you tried, I'm sure given the circumstances I could count on Mycroft to straighten things out for me." He turned back to the stunned looking nurses, carefully handing the needle over. "Do we need to wait for the results, or can we go see his wife now?"

"Right this way."

"See, wasn't that easy?" John muttered to Sherlock, falling into step beside him as he got up to follow the nurse. "What poison are they testing for anyway, what happened?"

"Cyanide. Moriarty sent Molly a card to _congratulate_ us on our wedding, filled with powdered Cyanide. Nasty stuff, can be absorbed through the skin as well as inhaled or swallowed, and the effects are almost instant and potentially deadly. He wasn't aiming to kill her though, or he'd have gone for something more potent and less noticeable. This was just a prelude." Sherlock told him.

John nodded solemnly, taking it in for a second before asking "What did the card say?"

"Don't know yet, didn't get a chance to look. I've been promised pictures though." Sherlock replied.

John's forehead wrinkled in surprise. Normally nothing would stop him making looking at that card his top priority, regardless of whatever poisonous substance might be on it. He understood instantly as the nurse drew back the curtain around Molly's bed, letting them see her. She was sleeping, and attached to a drip and heart monitor she looked smaller than ever. Sherlock moved silently round her bed like a ghost, his eyes intent on the readouts from the machines as his hand slid gently over hers in a light caress. Satisfied with the machine readout's his face turned to scan Molly, with an unusually tender look that made John feel like he was intruding.

"Ah, Mr Holmes." The doctor said, coming over and causing Sherlock to whip round, his face returning to its emotionless mask. "She's doing well, just sleeping it off. It would seem she suffered a fairly large dose, but your own quick actions and diagnoses meant we could get her the antidote quickly enough to prevent the worst of the symptoms."

"Any long term effects?" Sherlock asked

"There can be with Cyanide poisoning, but again I think action was taken soon enough to prevent it. We'll do some tests later but I imagine it's highly unlikely we'll find anything."

Sherlock just nodded, before turning his back to the doctor, effectively dismissing him and focussing again on Molly. The good natured doctor just smiled at the pair, giving John a quick nod before going on his way to tend to other patients. John himself felt a little out of place as Sherlock continued to ignore everything but Molly, pulling a chair up close beside her, so he cleared his throat.

"So uh, not wanting to sound rude or anything, and I appreciate you letting me know what's going on but uh… what am I doing here?" he asked, keeping his voice low enough not to wake Molly.

"Oh, right." Sherlock replied in equally hushed, but now slightly more excited tones, swivelling round in his seat to face John and gesturing for him to take a seat too. "You're a military man, a Captain, no less. I need your help deciding how best to deal with Moriarty. Needless to say _this_" he gestured back to Molly "cannot be allowed to happen again. The rules of the game have changed, I can't just wait for him to invite me to play anymore. And we'll never find him unless he wants to be found either, he's been managing to keep off Mycroft's radar since his suicide stunt, and the homeless network aren't turning up anything either, and even if they did find him, he could pay them off just as easily as I. I need a better strategy."

"Could you draw him out somehow? Like at the swimming pool with the missile plans?" John suggested.

"He wasn't there for the missile plans John, he was there to make a point, remember?" Sherlock sighed dramatically. "And what do I have to draw him out with this time? If anything I would have expected my wedding to do the trick, and all that got us was a poisoned postcard."

"There's got to be something. We need to turn _this_ back on him, find something or someone he values to use against him the same way he keeps doing to you." John asserted.

"That man cares only for himself and his own entertainment. He'd burn his own Mother just to pass the time, it would be a fruitless search. And besides, even if we _could_ find someone he cares about, what then?" Sherlock said pointedly "What believable threat could we pose to them that would draw Moriarty out? Nothing legal certainly. Nothing innocent. I may be a killer, but I'd like to believe I couldn't torture or kill an innocent, just to draw out one bad man. Could you?"

The suggestion alone made John's stomach turn, and he shook his head.

"I could."

Both men turned to see Mary standing on the other side of the bed, the baby on her hip. She'd been taking a quick nap when John received the text, but had found his note when she awoke and rushed right to the hospital.

"I thought you'd left that life behind." John said, his expression suddenly closed off and tense.

"Oh I have, sweetie, I have!" Mary reassured him, rushing round the bed to him and squeezing his shoulder. "But Moriarty doesn't have to know that."

"And he knows you?" Sherlock asked.

"He knows_ of_ me. Of my old reputation." Mary corrected. "A little while after I went… freelance, I heard the whispers, whispers of a consulting criminal in need of people like me. I know how those kind of deals work, and I wouldn't have been hearing whispers about him if he hadn't heard whispers of me first and liked what he heard. And before you ask, no, I didn't do any work for him. I'm smarter than that, the only way a criminal organisation like that stays secret is because no-one leaves it alive, and I wasn't ready to make that sort of commitment. "

"So what are you suggesting?" John asked, "You kidnap whoever it is Moriarty values, and he'll just believe that you'd torture them, and hand himself over?"

"Something like that, yeah." Mary agreed.

"Why are we still discussing this, it's irrelevant because there _is_ no-one to kidnap, no-one he cares about." Sherlock burst out.

"Everybody has somebody, Sherlock." Mary told him with a soft smile, pointedly looking over to Molly.

Sherlock turned back to his sick wife, picking up her hand with a soft sigh.

"I'll get Mycroft to do some digging."


	7. Unwell

It wasn't until after John and Mary had left, that Molly woke up. Sherlock was still in his seat by her bed, his hand around hers but his mind was far away in his mind palace, working on the Moriarty problem. With a light squeeze of his hand, Molly brought him back to the present, smiling as his eyes readjusted on her.

"You look better." He commented.

"I feel better." Molly nodded "What about you? They did test to make sure you weren't poisoned as well, didn't they?"

"They did a blood test. There were slight traces, but nothing to worry about they said. You on the other hand, got a potentially deadly dose. I should call the doctors back now you're awake, they wanted to some tests to make sure there was no permanent damage." He started to get up, but Molly stilled him with a hand.

"Wait, Sherlock. Can I just have a minute to wake up properly first?" Molly smiled at him.

"Of course." Sherlock sat back down, looking a little awkward. His hands twisted as he looked down at them instead of her. He glanced up at her and took a big breath before looking at his hands again. "Listen, Molly, I was… I was very worried about you when you were under the effects of the poison. And I… I…" his mouth struggled to form the words, until he looked up at her. Then he cracked into a wide smile and chuckled. "I'm sorry, I just can't do it. It's far too cliché."

Molly giggled and shook her head affectionately. "I love you too."

Sherlock nodded, squeezing her hand and reaching up to stroke her face. Before he got there though, he was interrupted by his text tone, and pulled his hand back to retrieve his phone.

"What is it?" Molly asked, seeing him frown as he studied it.

"Mycroft, forwarding me the pictures of the card I had the Hazmat team take." Sherlock told her, not taking his eyes off the phone as he scrolled through pictures. The envelope and the card itself were unremarkable, a standard congratulations card from a newsagent or card shop. The message inside though made his breath catch.

_Dearest Molly. Congratulations on securing Sherlock Holmes' heart. May your love burn on forever. Jimxxx._

"What does it say? I mean… not… I know what it says but… it means something doesn't it? What does it mean?" Molly asked, tilting her head to better look at his face.

"It's..." Sherlock took a deep breath and looked up at her. "It's a reminder of a promise he once made to _'burn the heart out of me.'_ And recognising that you now have that heart." He shuffled closer, laying a hand on her cheek, staring intently into her fearful eyes. "Molly, I know I let you down this time, but I promise I will not let him hurt you again. I'll do _whatever_ it takes." His mind went back to his discussion with John and Mary. Out of Molly's sight he typed a new message for his brother on his phone.

_Need you to do some digging for me. Need information of Moriarty's family, anyone still alive and potentially import to him. – SH_

"You didn't fail me. You couldn't have seen this coming." Molly reassured him. "I know you'll keep me safe."

Sherlock couldn't meet her eye as he nodded. "I'd better go get the doctor… get those tests done and see about when we can get you home." He stood and this time Molly didn't stop him, watching him go sadly.

He came back with the doctor and stood aside, trying his best to be good as the doctor took Molly through some simple tests to check for any lasting damage. The tests were nearly over when Sherlock got a text back, his phone buzzing in his pocket rather than making a noise as he had silenced it. He discreetly looked at it while Molly was otherwise occupied.

_I have people on it, but will bring it over personally. I do hope you're not planning what I suspect you are. – MH_

Sherlock slipped the phone back into his pocket, his face perfectly blank.

* * *

_AN: Sorry, a bit short I know, but just a few bits I felt needed to be covered before moving on to the exciting stuff :p Thanks again to all my readers, I can't believe how many follows and favorites this has had so far. And comments just make my day :)_


	8. Underage

Molly was released from hospital the next morning, and was back at work in a matter of days, getting almost as restless as Sherlock in the time she was forced to stay home and rest. It was on her first day back at work that Mycroft made his appearance in Baker Street. He strode in, carrying a manila file to find Sherlock and John busy sorting through data for a case. As soon as Sherlock saw the file in his hands though, he dropped what he was doing, getting straight to his feet .

"You found someone." He stated, holding his hand out for the file.

Mycroft ignored his outstretched hand, and walked round him, sitting in Sherlock's armchair, and casting a questioning glance at John. Sherlock moved to stand behind John's chair, glaring at his older brother, but nodding that what he had to say could be said in front of John.

"Indeed I have." He informed them. "Moriarty did an outstanding job in wiping his own records, leaving no trace of his past behind… except one article."

"Which is?" Sherlock demanded impatiently.

"An adoption form. For…" He opened the pile and squinted at the name. "Miss Kaitlin Moriarty. Only daughter of his brother we believe. Both her parents died in a car accident when she was 5 and at home with the babysitter. James, or 'Jim' Moriarty has been her legal guardian ever since."

"How could they let a psychopath like Moriarty adopt a _child._" John interrupted in disgust.

"It was a long time ago John, it wasn't known that he was a consulting criminal back then. She's 11 now." Mycroft corrected him.

Sherlock filed this information away in his mind palace, as John continued to protest. "But they know he is now. Surely they could … revoked his custody or something."

Mycroft sighed long-sufferingly. "It's really not as simple as that John, not when it comes to social services. You can't remove a child from their legal guardian just like that. He's never actually been convicted of a crime, and there's no evidence that the child is in any danger from him. He's very regular in taking her for health checks every six months and she's perfectly healthy, physically and mentally."

"Oh and that's enough for you is it?" John snapped.

"I'm no happier with the situation than you are, John, who knows what dubious morals he's teaching her, but I'm just explaining how legally there is nothing we can do to remove her from the situation. Although to be honest, right now I'm more concerned at what Sherlock intends to do should I hand over any more information about her, than I am about her current living arrangements." Mycroft's eyes fixed accusingly on his little brother.

Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace at the sound of his name. "Me? Why are you concerned about me?"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, giving his best 'I'm-no-fool-so-don't-take-me-for-one look. "It's hardly a difficult deduction Sherlock, he tried to kill your wife, it's only natural that you would feel the need to respond in kind, but-"

"You really think I'd let him do that?"

"As if I'd be so _petty_."

Sherlock and John both cut Mycroft's misguided notions off at the same time, glancing at each other as they realised they were talking simultaneously, before cutting hard stares back at Mycroft.

"My mistake." Mycroft apologised. "But if not revenge, what are you planning on using this information for?"

"To draw him out." Sherlock explained "He was hard enough to find and keep track of before, now it's nearly impossible. You saw how he dealt with Molly, a poisoned card, he's keeping his distance and staying out of sight, probably while he builds up a new network to replace the one I destroyed. We can't wait for that to happen, we need to draw him out now, and this is how we do it. He uses those I care about to get to me _because it works_, and it'll work on him too. Of course we don't want to hurt the girl, but if we can take her hostage and make him believe we would, then we might just be able to lure him out."

"That's quite a bluff. Sure he'll swallow it?" Mycroft challenged.

"When you're a parent, it's too big a risk to take. He'll swallow it." John said confidently, his eyes dark and far away, no doubt contemplating the lengths he'd go to for his own daughter.

Mycroft nodded, willing to take John as an authority on it. "Very well. But I hope you understand how risky this little operation of yours is going to be. You'll be operating well outside the law, and if word gets out you've kidnapped the girl they'll be looking for you, anything involving a child does create rather a commotion until the child is found. And don't think you can count on me to bail you if it all goes wrong, once I hand this file over, I can have no further part in this."

"Good, the last thing we need is you underfoot." Sherlock quipped, stepping forward and holding his hand out again for the file. Mycroft gave him another serious glare, not handing over the file just yet, and Sherlock sighed in response. "Don't worry Mycroft, I'm well aware of the dangers, and have no intention of allowing anything to go wrong. " he reassured him caustically.

With a small huff of annoyance Mycroft extended the files to Sherlock, who snatched them out of his hand and immediately started scanning through, memorizing the information. With a curt nod to John, Mycroft got up, letting himself out. Once he was gone John took a big breath himself, before looking back at Sherlock.

"So this is it then? We're really doing this. Kidnapping a minor." He rubbed his hands over his tired eyes.

"View it as a rescue mission. We're doing what is best for her, as well as ourselves, it's a win-win situation." Sherlock reassured him, handing the folder over to John once he'd finished reading it. "Take that home, study it, and have Mary do likewise. Tomorrow we begin."

* * *

_AN: Well, I finally have it all planned out n my head where this is going, just getting it down on paper is the hard part. Thanks for all the continued support, seriously it means a lot to me :)_


	9. Undercover

_AN: Sorry this chapter took so long, it's been a crazy busy week, then my spare time got sucked into a wormhole by and addictive game... but hopefully I'll be back on track now. _

* * *

The next day, while Molly was at work, they started reconnaissance on Kaitlin's home and school. At first glance Sherlock determined that the house that was on record as her residence was a façade. It was maintained to look like it was lived in, but wasn't actually where she lived. This was confirmed when she left school, a sleek black town car (not dissimilar to those Mycroft favoured) picked her up from her school, took her to the house, where she waited outside a few minutes before another car came and took her away, no doubt to her real residence, and Moriarty's. This car took such a deliberately confusing route, that they soon gave up on the idea of following it back to Moriarty, and settled on the idea that they'd have to intercept her somewhere before then.

It was back at the Watson's house, with Charlotte asleep in the next room, exhausted after being dragged around all day with them (carrying a baby would make them seem less conspicuous near a school, Sherlock had pointed out) and fresh cups of tea forgotten and cooling next to them that they made their plans.

"Could we just pick her up from the school during the day... Maybe say her uncle has had an accident and we've been sent to collect her?" John suggested.  
Sherlock shook his head. "They won't let just anyone take her, they'd need some kind of ID, probably a signed note from the guardian. I _could_ forge one, but it'd be far too risky"  
"Because they'd have seen us. If Moriarty does report the child missing, they'll remember us, probably have CCTV footage as well." Mary chimed in.  
"Exactly. Best to avoid school grounds altogether if possible." Sherlock agreed.  
"Okay... So that leaves us with the house itself, try to catch her between car rides, or one of the car journeys." John listed their other options  
"There's a camera in the front of the house, pointed directly at where she waits. And there's bound to be other, more discreet security there too. The house is a no go." Sherlock quickly responded, with a dismissive wave of his hand.  
"The car then." John nodded.  
"Extracting her on the move is going to be tricky, if even possible. I doubt we could get them to pull over, and nudging them off the road isn't an option if we want to avoid hurting her. And even if we can get them to stop, we won't be able to extract her without causing a scene."  
"Unless we get her to come to is willingly." Sherlock said, a smirk lighting up his face as an idea came to him.  
"Go on" John asked skeptically.  
"The car that picks her up from the school arrived only minutes before she came out, I imagine it's on a very tight schedule. She didn't greet the driver when she got in, suggesting that they change drivers regularly, so she doesn't get familiar with any of them." Sherlock explained.  
"Oh! That's brilliant." Mary said as she understood.  
"Sorry, what? All I heard were deductions, not a plan. Care to fill me in?" John asked.  
"Sherlock is suggesting we stop her usual car getting there and have our own waiting to pick her up. Isn't that right?" Mary grinned, looking back at Sherlock.  
"Wouldn't be difficult to rent a car of the same make and model." Sherlock nodded "and we'd only need to delay the other driver 10... 15 minutes maybe."  
"Shouldn't be too difficult in London traffic." John agreed "Maybe your homeless network could help, maybe put up some diversion signs, send him round the houses?"  
"I'll get Billy on it." Sherlock agreed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, reading the message. "Molly is home, I'd best be off... I'll start putting things in motion tomorrow morning, the faster we move in this the less chance Moriarty will realise what we're up to. Mary, I assume you have a bolt hole in the city somewhere you intend to take the girl?"  
"Of course, I'll get it set in the morning, install some cameras, take some toys over" Mary agreed.  
"And rent the car too, if you wouldn't mind."  
"Why-"  
"Fake ID. To be safe." Mary explained before the question was fully out of her husband's mouth. At that moment Charlotte woke up and started crying from the next room. "Oh, she's hungry, that's me. See you tomorrow Sherlock." Mary said, jumping up and giving him a peck on the cheek on her way past. Sherlock smiled and nodded to John, who got up to walk him out.  
"What arrangements have you made for Charlotte, during all this?" He asked on the way.  
"Tomorrow is her nursery day, so she'll be there during the day, And Mary has filled the fridge with pumped breast milk for when she's away with the girl, so I should be fine with her for a few days. And no, before you ask, you cannot take some home to experiment on." John told him.  
"Shame." Sherlock replied dismissively. "Actually I was thinking for her safety. If all goes wrong and Moriarty decides to return like for like, a daughter for a daughter."  
"I hadn't thought about it." John admitted, frowning in worry now the idea was out there "You'd think having an assassin and a soldier for parents would be enough to keep her safe." He stopped in the doorway, eyes staring blankly out past Sherlock.  
"I'll get Mycroft to put a security detail on her. Do let Mary know, wouldn't want them making her jumpy and someone getting hurt." Sherlock reassured him.  
"Thanks." John swallowed "See you tomorrow then."  
Sherlock nodded and left, stopping at Angelo's on the way home to pick something up for dinner, as he'd deduced from the lack of punctuation in Molly's text that she'd be too tired to cook. Sure enough when he got home she was blinking heavily, having just woken up from an unplanned nap on the sofa.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I haven't got anything on for dinner! I just meant to sit down for a second and-"

"I know." Sherlock smiled, holding out the takeaway bag for her. "Busy day?"

Molly sighed in relief, getting up and taking the bag off Sherlock, bringing it into the kitchen to plate up. "You have no idea. This big actor died, you probably haven't heard of him, I've seen some of his stuff though, and anyway he was brought in to us… and even though there was no sign of foul play the family still wanted a full report done, and were making such a scene, and of course the paparazzi were all over the place…" She chatted away, giving him the full run down of her day as she got them drinks and set the table where he had sat down. "Anyway, how was your day? Solve any interesting cases?" She asked as she set their plates down and sat opposite him.

"Nothing worthy of retelling." Sherlock shrugged.


	10. Undoubting

_AN: Okay, first I am so so so so sorry at how long this chapter has taken me, I'm usually much quicker, but what can I say it's been a majorly busy week (the trouble with working two jobs) and any chance I have had to sit down and start writing and I couldn't seem to get in the zone. Hopefully I'll be back on track now, but I can't make any promises._

_This chapter is a bit different from my usual layout, a bit of jumping about with POV's, but it was the only way I could make it work. Hope you enjoy :)_

* * *

Kaitlin Moriarty drummed her pencil against the desk, watching the clock ticking closer to 3 o'clock. The work the teacher had set was easy, and she'd already finished, while other kids scribbled away frantically, trying to get it done before the bell rang so it wouldn't end up as homework. Her mind wandered, imagining what the surprise her Uncle Jim had promised her would be (probably that adorable beanie baby she had been admiring for _days_) and before she knew it, the bell was ringing. She barely waited for the teacher to dismiss them, as she quickly shovelled her things into her backpack ready to leave, and was the first out the door. She called goodbye to her friends, waving back at them as she ran across the playground to the car park, and the car that was always waiting for her.

She vaguely noted that she had a new driver again, a lot sooner than usual, but thought nothing of it, as she strapped in and turned to stare back out the tinted window, losing herself in daydreams again.

She heard the hiss of a canister before she turned and saw the fog, coming directly for her and blocking her view of the driver. She sucked in a big breath and screamed, but it soon trailed off as a wave of sleepiness overtook her and dragged her down into it's depths.

* * *

"Is she out?" Sherlock asked John, who straightened up in the passenger seat where he had been ducked down to hide, and looked over his shoulder at the girl slumped in the back seat, her form hazy in the fog.  
"I think so." He replied, his voice muffled as Sherlock's had been through the gas masks they were both wearing.  
"Good" Sherlock turned the air con up to max and opened his window halfway, dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingers out the gap, to account for the smoke to any casual observers.  
By the time they reached Kaitlin's supposed address the fumes had dissipated enough to close the window, but he rolled it down again in direct sight of the camera, holding up a cardboard sign in front of his face to block it from view.  
**A. sends her love**  
He knew Moriarty would recognise his handwriting, though it would not be enough to convict him on. And if Mary was correct that Moriarty knew of her previous life, the message would no doubt be understood.  
They drove on for another 10 minutes, taking every windy back road void of cameras that Sherlock knew, until they reached the agreed drop off point, where Mary was waiting for them. Sherlock and John got out the car, And after a quick kiss from her husband, Mary took up the driver's seat, to take the girl to her new home for the next few days, and leaving the men to take a cab back.

* * *

Kaitlin awoke with a fuzzy mind, struggling for a second to remember what had happened and why she was asleep. When the memory of the fog in the car came back to her she bolted upright, taking fast panicked breaths and looking around. She was in a small bland bedroom, tucked up in a single bed, and she wasn't alone. A woman with short blond hair got up from a chair by the door, rushing over and crouching down beside her bed.

"Hey there Kaitlin, calm down okay, you're safe, everything is okay." The woman soothed, her eyes warm and reassuring, but Kaitlin wasn't completely reassured just yet.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Kaitlin asked, her voice only hitching slightly as she tried to get her breathing back under control. If she worked herself up too much she might have an asthma attack, and since her bag had been taken off her and she wasn't sure where her inhaler was, that would not be good.

"My name is Anna." The woman told her "You've been brought to a safe house, and your uncle sent me to look after you. Tell me Kaitlin, do you know what your Uncle does for a living?"

Kaitlin nodded, but bit her lip, not sure if she should say. Her Uncle had told her it was their secret, but if this woman worked for him, surely she knew anyway? "He's a secret agent, helping solve crimes all over the world, and trying to uncover the criminal mastermind, Sherlock Holmes, because most people don't believe he's a criminal, because he pretends to be a detective."

* * *

The other side of London, John gasped hearing these words come through the speakers of his computer, as him and Sherlock watched on over a remote feed.

"So that's how he knew he could make England swallow the lie that I was a fraud and a criminal." Sherlock mused, "He'd had practice."

* * *

If Mary was shocked by the girls answer, she didn't show it. She had been through several possible scenarios in her head, and though this had not been one of them, it was easy enough to adapt one of her answers for.

"That's right" She said, not really liking propagating the lie in the girls head, but now was not the time to turn the girl's world upside down. She needed to keep her calm and gain her trust, and this was the best way to do that. "And that's why he needed you brought here. He was on a particularly dangerous and important mission, and his cover got blown, so he needed to get you out of harm's way until he can wrap it up, in case they came after you. Do you understand?"

Kaitlin nodded, but looked a bit frightened. "Will Uncle Jimmy be okay?"

"Don't worry, he can take care of himself." Mary reassured her, with just the tiniest twinge of guilt.


End file.
